A. Searle - The King's sword

“Culley,” Keegan called.

“ Sir Culley,” Arien corrected with an irritated voice for the hundredth time. The boy scowled.

Ronan smiled at Arien’s effort. He brought Sorcha along side Keegan’s horse, searching the road for anything that might have been the cause of the horseman’s unpredictable stop. But the road was clear. Keegan’s expression was not, however. Instead it held a look of concern.

“What is it?” Ronan asked with confusion. His eyes darted to Keegan. Ula’s previous warning found his thoughts quickly and Ronan stiffened.

Ronan had considered who might not be who they presented themselves to be while he rode during the day. Now the horseman was behaving suspiciously. Did he mean to take the sword himself?

“In the trees to the left…no, don’t look directly. We are being followed.” Keegan kept his voice low and indicated toward the road ahead of them as if discussing something about the journey ahead. Had he lost his mind?

Ronan frowned as he looked up at the sky and then let his eyes sweep the trees on both sides of the road. Only a glance, but since he was looking for something, he saw them. Shadowed by the trees and brush but they were there. Riders.

Guilt tore through Ronan. He’d suspected Keegan but could see now the man only meant to warn him of what was going on around them. Ula was the one with no senses and he’d allowed her madness to taint his judgment of the man who guided them.

Keegan added, “I do not trust those that would hide from view.”

Ronan nodded, remembering the cautious way Keegan had watched the changeling, Mikel the Hort, two nights before. But Mikel had meant no harm. He had just been so used to hiding after he’d stolen something that it had become second nature.

“How long have you noticed them?” Ronan asked.

“Since the day after we fed the changeling.” Keegan shrugged when Ronan stared at him. “They didn’t move closer until this morning.” Perhaps the witch had been right after all. Mikel the Hort might not have been as innocent as Ronan had thought him to be. Maybe he had been some kind of spy.

“How many are there?” Ronan felt like an idiot but indicated toward the road with his hand anyway, following Keegan’s example. He would trust him from now on.

Keegan looked out at the road again, nodding this time. “My guess would be about six or seven. But it’s not the number that bothers me.” He met Ronan’s gaze. “They are Centaurs.” A chill raced up Ronan’s spine. He’d only heard of such half beasts and hadn’t even been sure they were real.

They were dangerous beings that were half horse-half man, most of which were said to belong to the Rahawk, a rebel group who opposed having a wizard king. But why were they here and following them? Realization suddenly washed over Ronan and Keegan nodded, apparently aware of what had found the blacksmith’s thoughts. The King’s Sword.

Ronan glanced at Arien’s horse. “Ahearn hasn’t seemed nervous. Surely if there was danger he would sense it first as he did before.” He grasped desperately for hope but Keegan took it away with a shake of his head.

“I told you the horses were intelligent. They would, just as we are, attempt to keep the centaurs from realizing we knew that they were there.” Keegan made a few gestures with his hands. “I have trained them well. True, they let us know of danger but they also understand our command and would not forsake us.” Ronan looked back to find that Ahearn was looking directly at him, almost as if to confirm the horseman’s words. Ronan sighed heavily.

“Do we get to stop a bit earlier today?” Ula asked eagerly. Ronan’s gaze drifted from the horse to the boy and the healer. They relied on him and Keegan to keep them safe. The fear that had began to gnaw at Ronan suddenly turned to anger. He flexed his fingers slightly and took a calming breath. No need to act irrationally and bring on events that might not take place otherwise.

“Do you think they are a part of the dark forces?” Ronan looked at Keegan, thankful that the horseman was more familiar with this darker world than he. Without him, Ronan would not have even noticed those that followed them.

“No. Centaurs are by nature free thinkers. They would not lower themselves to do the work of the dark forces or anyone else for that matter,” the horseman told him. “They are most likely after the sword for their own reasons, reasons that I would wager neither benefit Merisgale nor the dark forces.”

What reason could that be? “How far to Fullerk?” Ronan asked. He glanced out at the trees again.

“Another day and a half at most.” If Keegan knew Ronan suspected him, he did not show it and Ronan prayed that his suspicious thoughts hadn’t been obvious.

Ronan looked back to Ula after a moment of thought. “No, we push on and will not stop again until tonight.” Keegan raised a brow when Ronan faced him again. “I’ll take no chances. They haven’t attacked us yet, so perhaps they are only watching us. We may have passed their camp and they are just curious.” It was lame reasoning and Ronan knew it but Keegan nodded and kicked his horse forward while Ronan dropped back to the rear of their group.

As he rode, he rested his hand on the leather bundle that was the King’s Sword. He decided then and there that if the Centaurs attacked he would use the sword and face the consequences of his actions later. Once in Fullerk he would purchase a sword of his own.

Ronan felt ill. Never before had he felt he needed a weapon to protect himself. Now he needed one to protect two others as well.

The day dragged on and though he did give in and allow them to stop to relieve themselves, Ronan made certain they did not tarry long. The centaurs stayed with them, in the trees, moving when they moved, stopping when they stopped.

By nightfall, even Ula and Arien knew they were there. They would have had to be blind and stupid not to know it. Keegan and Ronan’s behavior alone probably tipped them off that there was something amiss. As they set up camp, everyone was solemnly quiet. And when they lay down to rest, none of them spoke a word.

Ronan remained awake, listening. The centaurs made no sound, not even a rustle and he assumed they did not sleep. Ronan suspected that none of the others slept either.

Only once, Ahearn appeared a bit nervous, then settled again. Ronan could only guess that one of those that watched them had come for a closer look for he could see nothing when he looked out at the dark trees. The centaur obviously fell back again and the rest of the night dragged on undisturbed.

If they were lucky, they could make Fullerk without any trouble. If they were not lucky, the centaurs would be just as weary as they were and perhaps that would weaken any attack they were planning. Either way, Ronan felt it would give him and those that traveled with him the upper hand in the situation.

To his relief the centaurs did not attack that night. The next morning they just continued following, watching. Ronan did not know how it felt to be hunted but he guessed it was very much like he was feeling now. They were prey being followed, with no control that could do nothing but wait for the hunter to make his move. Ronan didn’t like it and by midmorning he felt like charging into the trees.

“There is a fork in the road just ahead. Both ways will take us to Fullerk.” Keegan called back, pulling the reins of his horse. They all stopped and looked at Ronan. It was his call.

“Which way is quicker?” Ronan asked, wanting to get to the town as soon as possible. The closer to Fullerk the less chance they had of the centaurs in the trees attacking them.

“We’d have to cross a bridge but it’s not safe. If we were to cross, we would have to do it one at a time,” Keegan answered. “I think it would be better to go the other way. It would take a few more hours but…”